


This Is Where I Wanna Be

by shytrash



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sad, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Angst, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2020-10-04 09:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20468981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shytrash/pseuds/shytrash
Summary: There’s no remorse. No anger, no guilt, no frustration. Instead, he feels light. Weightless. Almost happy, if he knew what happiness felt like anymore. It’s been too long since he was genuinely happy and it’d be too fucked up to say this makes him happy, although it’s beginning to feel like it.Tony Stark isn't okay. Loki isn't okay.Summaries are hard. If you like angst, you'll like this.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Wowza. Two fanfics on the go at once, both Tony angst. Typical me.  
I can't help myself. I hope you guys like this as much as I like writing it. It's theraputic.  
I don't know where exactly this will go.

It’s easy to hide after a battle, when he’s already bruised and damaged. The sometimes deep, sometimes long cuts blend in with the rest of the wounds scattered on his body. It’s sneaky and terrible although he’s deemed it a rather necessary pain. Especially when people have died and he’s made it out a little banged up. It is never fair and if he doesn’t try to atone for his actions and the role he played in it all, he’ll have to wear the blood of the innocent lives lost for the rest of his life and that doesn’t sit well with him at all. There’s only ever two or three cuts, never enough to raise suspicion. He laughs the scars off when people point them out - they’re battle wounds! It’s all apart of being a superhero, obviously. Even though the suit of armour is meant to protect him, pieces break and fall off from time to time. He’s only human, afterall. 

Lately he’s been alarmed by the need to do it  _ in between  _ battles. When the world is quiet and peaceful, except for him. He’s restless, anxious, driven with the need to hurt himself so he can be as still as his surroundings. Nights are long and uneasy without it and he knows it’s becoming a growing problem as the weeks go on and his self-inflicted injuries spread across his body. If he refuses to acknowledge it for a little longer, maybe the need will disappear on its own. The desire to see what’s inside his body on the outside of it. Wash away the blood of the fallen with his own, like it somehow makes up for the destruction he’s caused. 

He’s tucked away in his bathroom, in between the toilet and the overly large bath he never uses. There’s music on repeat in the background but he can’t hear it now, it sounds so far away from him, lost in his thoughts in the corner of the room. There’s two razor blades balancing carefully on the edge of the bath. Clean. New. Sharp. Deadly. They’re almost beautiful, the way they catch the dim light overhead. They’re screaming at him to be used and he wants to listen to them. If he’s caught, he’s going to deep in deep shit. On the other hand, who would catch him? Who’s here to keep an eye on him, besides Jarvis? Jarvis has never confronted him about this and can never tell a soul. He’s a computer program, afterall, and he’s programmed to keep his creators deepest, darkest secrets. 

Sadly, it doesn’t take him long before he’s picking up the shiny metal blade. It’s the third time in two weeks, the most he’s ever done this since he started. He isn’t wearing a shirt because he knows this is going to get messy. Maybe he should sit in the shower. Maybe he should press the blade in too deep.  _ This is dangerous,  _ is the last thought to cross his mind before it’s in his hand and he’s pushing the razor into his wrist and there’s a sharp sting, his breath hissing between his teeth as blood begins to pour from the long cut. It’s dark against his pale skin and he watches it slowly trickle down his arm before he goes back, this time deeper. It’s addicting. It’s breathtaking. 

He knows he’s sitting in a small, yet still growing, puddle of his own blood. His arms have been cut to shreds and he doesn’t feel bad about it yet. There’s no remorse. No anger, no guilt, no frustration. Instead, he feels light. Weightless. Almost happy, if he knew what happiness felt like anymore. It’s been too long since he was genuinely happy and it’d be too fucked up to say this makes him happy, although it’s beginning to feel like it. Maybe it’s because he’s lost so much blood. Now, he’s leaning against the cool tile of the wall. His arms are in his lap, cuts staring at him in the face as he looks between them and the roof. He begins to wonder if he’s going to die if he stays here, burrowed away and left to stew in his pain. The thought doesn’t phase him. 

Instead, he lets himself imagine a world without Iron Man. Maybe there wouldn’t be so much pain and conflict that always seems to be linked back to him. It’d be nice, knowing his death would bring about some peace to people who hold him responsible for so many terrible things - even if they weren’t all his fault. He isn’t sure how long he’s been here, on the floor, blood flowing from his numerous cuts in a rather steady stream. It’s peaceful. His mind has slowed down as well as his breathing, yet he isn't in pain. There’s no anger or depression anymore. There’s just him, razors and a very silent Jarvis. “I’m not a fuck-up, right, Jarvis?” he slurs slightly, head tipping back to look at the roof. 

“Sir, I have never thought of you as a fuck-up. I am worried about you and your condition. Let me call for assistance.” Tony could hear his AI pleading with him, the desperation that shouldn’t exist in the intelligence’s voice. He couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out of his mouth. Harsh and loud in the confines of his bathroom. 

“Assistance? Then they’ll know, Jarv. They’ll see the real me. I don’t want anyone to see me like this,” he squeezes his eyes shut, already able to imagine the judgmental stares from the rest of his team. They’ll call him a fuck-up, freak, loser, the list could go on for days. He’s fine with dying here, letting whoever find him tomorrow. It’s time someone cleaned up his mess instead of him trying to clean up everything by himself. His eyes close easily now, even if he’s uncomfortable in this position. It doesn’t matter anymore. 

  
  
  


-

  
  
  


He jolts awake, a groan passing through his lips without his permission. His whole body protests at any sort of movement and he’s surprised to find himself still on the bathroom floor, leaning against the wall and not dead instead. Maybe this is heaven. Eyes squinting shut from the harsh light peeking through the windows, he surveys the damage done to himself. Everything hurts - from his head down to his feet, he’s in a world of pain and he can’t remember the last time he felt this horrific, even after a brutal battle. For now, there’s no sadness or anger at himself. There’s simply the agony he’s put onto himself, something he can focus on for the time being. 

When he really looks at his arms, he doesn’t even know if he can move them without causing more damage. There’s so many cuts. Long, deep, short, shallow. He can see fat under his skin and he isn’t surprised by how much he bled last night if this is how far he went, lost in his emotions and driven with the desire to end it all. “Sir, please let me call down assistance. You aren’t stable.” Jarvis’ voice sounds like it’s right behind him and he nods in response, eyes already becoming misty with the thought of being caught like this. Exposed. Vulnerable. He needs someone who won’t throw him to the wolves, spread the news through the team or force him to see numerous doctors who want to shove pills down his throat as a solution. Been there, done that. 

“Loki, Jarv,” is all he has to energy to push out, waking up seems to have taken so much out of him. Looking at the damage he’s done has made it worse, so he leaned his head against the bath, next to the one razor left balancing on the edge and he closes his eyes. They make an unlikely pair, the sorcerer and the mechanic. Since the god’s time here, after New York, they’ve bonded of science and magic, pain and torture. Their stories and torment and cruelly similar, although they’re separated by worlds and universes, at times. Tony can’t help by drift off as he thinks about the much older Norse god and how far they’ve come in the last year and a half. 

When he awakes next, all he can see is green and black. His eyes won’t focus and he’s so tired, he wants to go back to sleep but Loki is tapping his face, murmuring words Tony can’t seem to understand. He’s just glad he doesn’t feel anymore pain. It’s nice to feel nothing. “You utter idiot, open your eyes. No more sleeping until I’ve fixed this mess.” the other man's voice is louder this time, directed at Tony and he tries to open his eyes and look around  _ properly _ , even if it feels impossible. 

Tony’s laying down, back flat against what he guesses is his bed. He can see the open bathroom door in the background, the pool of blood in the corner before Loki stands in front of his line of sight. “There you are. I must say, when Jarvis requested by presence immediately, I thought it was for entirely different reasons, Tony.” the god is trying to make a joke, although there’s no humour in his voice at all. He sounds cold. Tony wants to turn his back to the god in this moment. “What happened in there?” 

There’s a moment of silence as Tony stares up at Loki, his green eyes holding no judgement, simply utter curiosity. “I think you know what happened in there. Do I really have to tell you?” he responds equally as cold, tone harsh and bitter. “I didn’t even think you would come. I would have been fine with being left to die,” 

Loki’s entire face changes with Tony’s words and yet he still can’t read the man, unable to decipher what he’s feeling or thinking. “I wouldn’t leave you to die. I’ve healed you to the best of my abilities for now, later tonight I will finish my work. I’m going to clean the bathroom, you’re going to sleep. You’ll wake up feeling more like yourself.” there was no time to respond before Loki had his hands on his temples and everything faded out to a peaceful black. 


	2. Part Two

Waking up this time wasn’t as painful, a small victory Tony was thankful for. He’s still in bed, sheets tucked up around him and he feels a surge of panic as he remembers the condition he was in before Loki forced him to sleep. Quickly, he sits upright and surveys his arms in dark, hands running up and down the now slightly bumpy surface. “Jarv, lights,” he says quietly, breath caught in his throat as the light reveals the numerous pink scars running up and down both of his forearms. 

“I tried my best to heal you. It does take a lot out of me,” a cool baritone voice says from across the room and Tony couldn’t help but jump out of his skin. “The scars will fade with time. I cannot speed that process along. Your lavatory has been cleaned and disinfected as well. You’re welcome.” Loki was spread out on a large and plush chair Pepper had insisted his bedroom needed, feet propped up on an ottoman in front of him. Tony wonders if he’s been here this whole time. 

“Thank you. How long was I out for?” his voice sounds hoarse, having gone too long without some sort of liquid in him.  _ Or food,  _ he thought as his stomach made more than one embarrassing sound. “I appreciate you helping me, I really do, but you aren’t my babysitter, you know.” he couldn’t help but want Loki to leave leave him alone now. They didn’t need to make things any more awkward than they already were between the two. 

“Trying to get rid of me so soon after I’ve saved your life? I don’t think it works like that. This may be your tower, dear Tony, although it seems to me that you’re indebted to me now.” Loki has his usual cocky grin across his face as he stares at Tony with something dangerous in his eyes. “You’ve been asleep for the last seventeen hours. Jarvis alerted me to what was happening the night before while the rest of your team were sound asleep.” as he talks casually, the god stands and makes his way over to the edge of the billionaire’s bed. “I cannot simply leave and let you try to off yourself again. I’m assuming you choosing me out of everyone else below us means you would rather nobody else know what’s happened here.” there’s no judgement in his voice, he’s simply stating a painfully obvious fact. 

Tony stares at the god, dressed in black jeans and a dark green v-neck shirt, the long sleeves pushed up to reveal his pale yet strong arms.  _ It’s a good look _ , he can’t help but think as he studies the man in front of him. What does he want from Tony? “I’m not going to do that again.. It was merely a lapse in judgement, that’s all.” there’s a scoff and an eyeroll at his words, the other man making it clear he doesn’t believe the bullshit Tony is sprouting. “Fine. How can I repay you for saving my life, then?” even though he never wanted to be saved.

Loki kneels down then, emerald eyes level with Tony’s brown ones. “Let me help you.” the words are simple, they fall out of Loki’s mouth easily yet the mechanic is staring at him like he spoke his mother tongue right in front of him. “I know what you’re going through. I know it intimately. I’ve tried to end it before more than once, fell into the wrong hands last time I tried. Simply, Stark, I do not know if the world can lose Iron Man just yet.” the god’s voice is soft between the two of them in his bedroom. 

Overwhelmed, Tony fell back onto his bed. He wasn’t really sure what to think. Loki, the god of lies, trickey and whatever other evil shit he enjoys wants to help him? Doesn’t want to world to be without him? “This is crazy.” he breathes out, staring at the ceiling. The last two days has been a rollercoaster and it doesn’t seem to be slowly down. “If you think you can help me, sure. Just don’t be upset when you realise you can’t change me,” he says, eyes focused on the ceiling above him. 

“You underestimate me already.”

  
  


-

  
  
  


This wasn’t where Tony expected to be in his life. He’s in his forties and he’s still as messy as his twenty-one year old self. Struggling mentally more than ever, it seems. Burdened with knowing there’s something looming out in the  _ much-larger-than-anyone-thought _ universe. Something is coming for them and all Tony can see is death following him because of it and he’s had enough with the endless torture from his mind. There’s no escape from his inner monologue. Loki was like a puppy, following him around as he tried to process what he’s put himself through. They sat side by side in his penthouse, drinking coffee at his kitchen bench. 

“When did this start?” was the first question Loki had asked him in a while, the two having sat in silence since leaving his bedroom a few hours earlier. Tony knew what he was asking, yet there was no desire in him to have this conversation. 

He stared at the contents of his coffee cup for what felt like forever, thinking through the last months of self-inflicted wounds in what’s always felt like his time of need. This was one of the few times he didn’t know how to answer. That was happening more and more these days. “I guess.. Probably ten months ago.” he kept his answer short, knowing full well that Loki knows the battle he’s talking about. New York. 

Tony continued drinking his coffee as another silence stretched between them. There’s a chance he’s made the god uncomfortable, bringing up the incident where he tried to take over this little planet of theirs. It’s the truth, though. “You saw something, didn’t you? Flying into the hole in the sky changed you. I’ve heard Thor talk about it. I’ve seen the same things, Tony.” it was one of the few times the god referred to him as Tony and not simply  _ Stark,  _ yet the mechanic didn’t have a chance to appreciate it because he couldn’t even hear Loki over the sound of his own panic rushing through his ears. His vision was blurred with tears or god knows what but it was hard to  _ breathe  _ and he had to get out of his suit because he was flying straight for the wormhole and it was pitch black and thousands and thousands of years away and there was so many  _ creatures  _ he had never seen before coming to take away everything he loves, everything he fought for - is this really how he loses it all? Flying into space with a nuke? He can’t, he has to warn everyone what’s out there before it’s too late before he-

“Stark!  _ Stark!  _ Breathe, you need to breathe. You’re on Midgard, you’re in your tower. This is your home. Relax, please, try to relax. Steady yourself. It isn’t real.” Loki was speaking calmly, slowly once he knew he had Tony’s attention. They were both on the floor next to the kitchen bench. His breathing was erratic, heart beating wildly in his chest and he was surprised he didn’t have a fucking heartattack. That’s how these attacks always feel and with his already compromised condition, he’s waiting for the one that pushes his body over the edge. He’s listening to the god repeat himself, telling Tony to relax and breath. It isn’t real. Not now, sure. It was real, though, and that’s what still gets to him. It  _ wasn’t  _ a dream. It was reality. 

Part of him wanted to snap at Loki, push him away and force him out of his home for bringing  _ that  _ up. The other part of him is deflated, exhausted and his body feels too weak now the adrenaline from his panic attack is subsiding and his composure is slowly but surely coming back together. “I don’t talk about that, for obvious reasons.” is all he can force out, voice shaky. The god simply nods, face pale and sombre.  _ I’ve seen the same thing  _ rings through his head and he can’t help but feel curiosity. What has a man like Loki seen? Is this why he’s offered his help? 

“I know you have questions. When you are ready, I will answer them. Honestly.” Loki offered his hand when he stood up and Tony took it without a second thought. There’s something between them, whether it’s shared pain and trauma or something else, Tony can’t help but feel connected to him. He’s felt it since their interaction on this same floor all those months ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so many questions yet to be answered... ooooo....


	3. Part Three

Alone, for the first time in three days, Tony can’t help but think back over the last ten months. The clean up New York had to go through is almost finished, mainly thanks to the villainous god who brought the destruction in the first place. It blows him away to this day how quickly the battle turned around once Loki had sustained a big enough injury to break the mind-control he was under. He was the one to close the wormhole, he watched as Tony plummeted towards the ground at such a high speed that the god knew it would be fatal if he hit the ground in the metal suit. He never did, though. Once again, because of Loki. Not that Tony remembers anything after what he saw up past the sky, through the opening. He shudders when he thinks back to it, hands cradling his overly full glass of scotch. 

Loki had exhausted himself repairing the city during the night, almost desperate to atone for his actions. Buildings were fixed instantly, streets cleared of debris. There were times where Loki would almost be falling over while he worked, sweat dripping down his forehead and arms in a steady pace. Thor would hold his brother up as he became more and more weakened during his work, face void of any emotion even though the team knew the god of thunder was battling a war inside his head thanks to his adopted brothers actions. It was depressing to watch. Nobody knew how to deal with the situation. The god who ruined their city now worked endlessly to repair it. 

Clint still wanted him punished for what he did to himself and many others, yet Thor stepped in to stop that train of thought almost instantly. They all knew better than to go up against him, even if they were superheroes. He was a literal God, full of power that none of them had seen before. He radiated energy and power, strength and knowledge that we all wish we could have. So, Loki was kept close to Thor. Restricted in where he goes and what he does until the team figured out how to handle the situation. During this time, Loki didn’t utter a word to anyone except Thor and even then it was strained. Small whispers between the two, huddled together in a corner somewhere.

It weighed down Thor’s shoulders, obviously. The god pushed back when Nick Fury wanted him sentenced in Asgard, trying to explain how their father would put the worst punishments imaginable on his younger brother and he wouldn’t let that happen, not when he was under the same control as Clint. Everyone thought he was lying. They raked through hours of footage of Loki, of the bright blue eyes that haunted Hawkeye still. When he first landed on Midgard, through the portal opened by tesseract, almost everyone in the room agreed that Loki looked  _ sick _ _ ,  _ skin clammy and uneven. His eyes had bags under them, his cheeks were hollow. His body was covered up to hide the torture he’d been put through as Thor argued endlessly. He wasn’t himself. His actions weren’t his own,  _ please believe me  _ the god all but begged Fury. Tony couldn’t keep his eyes off of Loki, he remembers. They were all sat in an office at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters as Thor plead his case, his brother chained next to him and there was a look on his face that took Tony ages to figure out. He was good at hiding his emotions, good at portraying what he wanted people to believe, yet the mechanic could see through it. He could see that at the evil God was  _ scared.  _ Scared of what would happen to him if he left Midgard. 

From there, the two brothers were bound. Wherever Thor went, Loki was behind him. Months later and that’s still the case. His magic is limited and if his brother leaves and Loki can’t go with him, he is stuck inside the tower. It isn’t practical and it definitely isn’t what everybody wanted, yet Tony was glad. There was someone that knew what was coming better than the rest of the team. Nobody knew who was behind the attack on his planet and the god has been very quiet about it, failing to provide a single answer when questioned by Fury’s men. Tony holds onto the hope that one day he’ll provide answers. Maybe he could use their current situation to press the man.  _ I know you have questions.  _ Could Loki be the key to stopping the force that is clearly beyond their control? 

He isn’t drunk enough to keep thinking about this, he decided, so he finishes the rest of his drink in a single mouthful and pours another overly full cup of the amber liquid. Better to forget the last few days than sit and lose himself in the thoughts, god knows what it would drive him to do. Loki is right, he is indebted to the god. His arms are littered in pale pink scars. Some are wider and clearly deeper than others and some are hardly visible, thanks to the god. Even now he can feel the need, in the back of his mind. Shouldn’t it be gone? He was aggressive in the cuts he made on his own flesh, wasn’t that enough to satisfy himself? The last few months have really gotten into his head. The breakdown of his relationship with Pepper, the little to no sleep he’s getting each night. Alcohol helps. It’s helping right now. Numbing him so he can’t get stuck thinking about the same shit. 

So what if he wants to get drunk every night? He’s an adult. He’s_ Tony_ _fucking Stark, _the king of parties and self-loathing. Laughing to himself, he quickly finished the third (or fourth, who’s counting anymore) glass. He’s buzzed, body warm from the alcohol he’s consuming at a rapid pace. Thankfully his bar is fully stocked with all of his over the top, luxurious favourites and he wonders how long it would take him to clear the bar out. He’d probably pass out in a puddle of his own puke if he really tried. Maybe he should. 

  
  


-

  
  


When Loki made his way back to the penthouse, there was a heavy smell of alcohol in the air. The god couldn’t help but roll his eyes, knowing that he was going to find an intoxicated Stark somewhere around here, most likely wallowing in his own self-pity. He couldn’t blame the billionaire. While he lives an extravagant life, the man has become a completely different person since his invasion on Midgard. Loki was fuelled by the tesseract, completely under its spell. There’s parts of the last year and a half, since he fell off that bridge, that he doesn’t remember at all. It was traumatic being at the hands of Thanos, the creature whose name he cannot speak. He will not speak it. It’ll bring havoc down on himself and he’s already caused so much destruction. 

Walking through the upper level, he finds Tony right where he expected him to be. At the bar. The genius was talking to himself, muttering words that Loki failed to hear from afar. It was a sad sight to see, the once cocky and self-righteous man now replaced by a broken man. The team talked in hushed words behind his back about his downfall, his return to vices that breakdown his brilliant mind. Loki couldn’t help but stop to watch him struggle to poor a drink, a few empty bottles surrounded him and the man was clearly unsteady on his feet. Even now, with all his faults on display, there was apart of Loki that wanted to grab him and shield him from what was coming for them. He wanted to preserve the man, end his suffering and make him the great inventor he once was. When he was offered a drink by him, on this level ten months ago, the god felt something between them even then. He was electrifying and Loki wanted to revel in that feeling for as long as he could. 

  
  



	4. Part Four

Mornings after stopped being so kind to Tony after he turned twenty-six. He knew his head hurt before he could even open his eyes, stomach churning as he rolled over in his bed. Maybe getting drunk every night isn’t such a good idea after all. It’s a better escape than hurting himself though, right? Look where that got him. It doesn’t take him long before he knows he needs to get up and run into his bathroom. His head hurt when he stood, throbbing violently as he stumbled through his room. It was torture when he drank so exessively, drinking because he’s sad always ends like this. No one is there to tell him to stop, so he lets himself have the next shot, and the next _and the next _until he’s blacking out and now his head is in the toilet and there’s nobody else to blame. _God fucking damn it, Tony, _he can’t help but think to himself as the contents of his stomach come back up. 

His issues would be so petty to anyone else, he feels. _You’re a billionaire, genius, Howard Stark’s kid. Iron Man. You have it all. _Yet, he doesn’t. Is he an idiot for still feeling empty? Unable to get through the day without feeling anxious, nervous or tense. There’s no more sense of entitlement here like his younger self used to carry everywhere he went. There’s loneliness and uneasiness. He’s more withdrawn than ever before, he still drinks like a Stark, yet he doesn’t have the personality of one anymore. He feels like a shell of himself as he sits in the same position from a few nights ago - although this time there’s no open wounds on his body. Is it terrible to admit that Tony’s almost disappointed about that? He wonders if Loki threw out the razors he kept here.

Loki’s possibly more of a mess than him, Tony decides, based on what he knows about the god. Daddy issues to rival his own, although the god hasn’t uttered a word to Tony about the all-powerful, all-knowing Odin. The difference between the two men, however, is the god looks like he has his shit together for the main part. They call him Silvertongue and Tony’s always wanted to ask if it’s for the obvious reason, or if it’s because he can convince anyone of everything, just like he has convinced Thor he’s mentally stable. Father figures have pushed them down a path of self-loathing and trust issues that doesn’t go away on its own. They’ve both ended up doing very  _ different  _ things during their lives while figuring out how to cope, yet they’ve landed in the same place and now it seems like all they have is each other, because Tony knows there’s no one else he can go to with what he’s putting himself through this time.

  
  
  


-

  
  
  
  


He’s there, sprawled out on the couch in the lounge room. There’s a book in his slender hands although his eyes are locked onto Tony. There’s a smirk on his lips. “Don’t you look lovely this morning, Stark,” he said casually and it was already too much for Tony to handle in his hungover state. 

His eyes were stuck to the ground as he made his way into the kitchen to make some ultra black coffee. “Try not to talk so loudly until I’ve had my first cup. I feel like I’m dying.” Tony groans at the sound of his coffee machine, making sure Loki knows how sensitive he is right now. While he waits, he makes sure to find two painkillers to down with his hot drink. Kick start his recovery and prepare him for another drink tonight, maybe. He might try and hold off, give his liver a break even though it wouldn’t make much of a difference. The whole time he slowly shuffles around the kitchen he can feel eyes on his back, watching his movements. He chooses to ignore it until he’s walking towards to other man, a cup of hot caffeinated liquid clasped in his hands. “Making sure I made it through another night?” he says quietly when he sits down next to Loki on the couch.

“I have nowhere else to be. So, I figured I would wait to see how much pain you’ve inflicted on yourself again. Have you learned any lessons?” Loki’s scolding made him want to laugh, laugh at the fact that Loki really hasn’t learned much about him at all since he’s been here. Does he really think a bad hangover would stop him from drinking two nights in a row? God, he’s done month long benders back in his prime. 

Slowly, he takes a deep drink of his coffee and thinks of how to respond to the other man. “Loki, I’m an alcoholic. I have been for years. It’s a lesson I wish I could learn, but it never seems to stick.” he’s quiet, whispering the truth between them. It’s easy to let it come out with the god, someone who is far older than Tony can comprehend. He imagines Loki has seen and heard it all in his lifetime. “If I thought my stomach could handle it I’d have added some whiskey to this coffee, honestly.” 

There’s a stretch of quiet between them, Loki’s book is now in his lap as he stares off into the distance, expression unreadable. Tony doesn’t mind the silence, it helps the throbbing in his head to calm down slightly. “Are you consuming so much alcohol to forget about the other night?” the question makes Tony flinch a smidge, still uneasy to come to terms with the state he was in the other night.

“Yes. I drink to forget a lot of things.. You know I called you up here that night because you’re the only person I trust to not make a big deal out of this. If I went to Rhodey.. Well, I don’t want to think about how he would have reacted. I felt like you were my only option. Is that crazy? Are you going to out me to everyone? I literally don’t know if I can handle that. I don’t know a lot of things anymore.” It felt like a weight off his shoulders to blurt so much out at once, words rushing out like he wouldn’t get the chance to speak them again. When he dared to look over at Loki, the god was staring at him, lips parted slightly like he wanted to speak. 

“Tony..” he started, trailing off as they stared at each other. He meant what he said, he didn’t know if he could trust anyone not to ship him off to numerous doctors or push pills down his throat in an attempt to fix him. At least with Loki, he felt safe, weirdly enough. He can’t think of a time where the god has judged him in a serious manner, or put him down. Their time spent in his lab is almost no different than when he’s with Bruce. They spend hours in deep conversation over physics and mechanics and Loki always listens and treats what he says seriously. Tony pays him the same respect when they compare his magic to science. It’s a bond that no one in the tower saw coming, especially him. “I am not going to _ ‘out you’ _ to everyone, as you say. I value you, as a friend, and I don’t easily betray that. I  _ care _ for you. I will admit that I’ve become somewhat invested in you over the last few months, here on Midgard. I told you I want to help you. I mean it.” there was no sarcasm in his voice, the man next to him was being just as brutally honest as Tony was moments ago. 

Tony would be lying if he said hearing Loki say he cares about him didn’t give him butterflies, didn’t make him crush a little harder on the god. At this point in his life, he had no one else to trust except for the infamous villain of the century. There was no Pepper to turn to, she was busy running a company for him. Rhodey is off on military business and he doesn’t know if the older man could handle another one of Tony’s meltdowns. He’s been doing it for years. The rest of the team have their own lives, and he refuses to be a burden on them.  _ I know it intimately,  _ he can hear Loki’s words in his head from the other day, he can remember the agony he’s seen on Loki’s face. “I’m sorry I was an asshole to you after you helped me. I’m not good at accepting help. If you’re determined though, I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanting to rush into romance but not wanting to rush into romance   
we're getting there folks


	5. Part Five

Somehow, they always ended up in his workshop these days. It’s been just over a week since their conversation on the couch, one of them slightly hungover. Loki is pushing him down to his lab most nights in a bid to get the genius to  _ work  _ and use his brain for something good. Now he’s been down here for more than forty-eight hours straight and he doesn’t want to leave yet. The music is loud, some sad indie band that he’s been enjoying instead of the usual AC/DC that blasts around the studio. He’s bent over an arm piece of his suit, wires are thrown across his desk around him. There’s a need for concentration as he holds a tiny screwdriver in his hand. One more screw and he can take a break, sit back in his chair and let his now sore hands rest for an hour. He’s been doing intense maintenance to his suit. More power, more stealth and more ease in his movements. It’s something that he never feels is unnecessary, there’s always small ways he can work on feeling his most confident in his second skin and especially now he knows something-  _ someone  _ is coming for them. 

When he’s finished and the metallic red on his now closed-up arm piece shines up at him under the lights, he lets himself relax a little. There’s half a bottle of vodka  _ somewhere  _ in the drawers on his desk here and he’s determined to find it and finish it off. He’s cut down on his drinking, the norse god looming in the background stops him most of the time, although he’s allowed one or two. There’s no more excessive drinking and maybe that’s why he can’t sleep - he isn’t paralytic drunk. It’s only him down here and it’s after four in the morning  _ (when did it become that late, what the fuck, Tony?),  _ he’s earned a couple of drinks. He can feel the bottle in the back of the third drawer, arm reaching down to pull it out and when his eyes land on the bottle he decides to drink it straight. No point bothering with mixers at this time of the night. Morning.  _ Whatever,  _ he thinks as he brings the now opened bottle up to his lips. 

He wonders how the rest of the team is doing, scattered among the floors below him. If they’re used to having Loki in the midst of everything now, or if they’re still filled with hate towards him. Tony knows how tough it can be under their scritinity, hell, he still gets into petty fights over behaviour with the captain. Have any of them made the connection between Loki and himself? It isn’t likely, given that he hasn’t seen any of them in weeks, probably. Bruce sends him science stuff through their messages, although the doctor has always respected his need for space. It’s something Bruce is more than happy to provide. The days blur easily with the god, tucked away on his floor where nobody knows the way they’re tiptoeing around each other. Flirtatious and cautious all at once - aware of each others vulnerability but drawn to one another regardless. 

There’s no way to tell if anything will ever happen between the two of them. It’s a dangerous game they’re playing together, if anyone else found out Tony knows there would be trouble. What if he’s sick of trying to please the rest of them? He has given everyone a place to live rent-free, supplied everything he could think of to make it comfortable for the saviours of the world. If he wants to fuck around with the god of mischeif, why can’t he? Who knows how long they have left with their line of work, a risk Tony has always taken seriously, so he doesn’t see why he should let others continually dictate his happiness and what he can and can’t do. Plus, it’s not like anyone is going to find out when he hasn’t left his penthouse in an unhealthy amount of time.

  
  


-

  
  


It’s nice, watching the sunrise. He’s leaning on the ledge of the building, hoodie pulled over his head. The weather isn’t cold, yet there’s no warmth without the sun fully out yet. They’re in between. In between night and day, looking over New York City. He’s past tipsy now, not quite black-out level intoxicated yet. Picked up another bottle on his way past the bar, as well as a half empty pack of cigarettes he keeps around for emergencies. It isn’t an emergency, he simply  _ wanted  _ one. No one’s stopping him. No one can stop him, either. His mind won’t stop thinking and he couldn’t go to bed once he was drunk. Instead he needed some fresh air.There’s a part of him that can’t believe he’s in this situation, crushing on the man that caused devastation to his home, yet it feels so natural and that’s what is throwing him. It’s easy and comfortable. It’s like they’ve known each other for years. He’s shaking his head as grabs a cigarette and puts it between his lips, using the lighter that’s tucked in the pack ( _ thank god someone thinks ahead)  _ to light it. 

It was a comforting, familiar routine. Even if he hasn’t smoked in months, the last time for him being when he broke up with Pepper, it was a never changing process that always relaxed some of the tension in his shoulders. He watched the smoke blow away as he breathed it out and he didn’t let himself get lost in thoughts about Pepper. There was so much already in his mind and there was no point going back to something that won’t work. New York changed the both of them and it ended up with them growing apart, both of them pulled in different directions and Tony guilty that he couldn’t make it work. It took time to see that it was the right decision for them, yet, Pepper is thriving. She looks  _ happy  _ and that’s all Tony wanted. One day they’ll go back to the friendship that was in place before everything. It won’t be right now, it’s only been a few months and Tony can’t rebuild anything while he’s borderline suicidal and clearly interested in a man wearing a horned helmet, for fucks sake. 

He took another drink of vodka as he enjoyed the comforting sound of the city below him, butting out his cigarette as he finished it. It was nice to watch the colour of the sky change and brighten, the city below him slowly getting busier as the morning goes by. He could spend all day out here, he decided as he was suddenly interrupted without warning, almost yelling loudly at the intrusion. “What in the  _ gods _ is that squished orange thing next to you?” the familiar deep voice cut through his peaceful solitude. Of course he’d give no warning.  _ Dick.  _ Loki wonders everywhere silently, like he’s always trying to hide - or sneak up on potential prey. “Enjoying a light breakfast, I see.” 

“ _ Jesus fucking Christ,  _ Loki. You’re going to give me a heart attack.” Tony tried his best to sound more sober than he felt he was, standing up a tad straighter - although unsteady. He almost feels embarrassed. “You haven’t ever had a cigarette in your time here, Loki? Well, next time I’ll introduce you to them. You’d be a sexy smoker.” the comment is out of his mouth before he could stop it and he laughs, grabbing the bottle and turning to face the god fully. “Lighten up. Do you want some?” he holds out the bottle teasingly, expecting the god to turn down the offer. Tony starts to smile as the other man takes it, one eyebrow raised at the wasted mechanic. Quickly his smile turns to protesting as Loki pours the clear liquid on the ground in front of him, eyes never leaving Tony’s face.

There’s not an ounce of remorse across his face, he even looks  _ smug  _ and Tony wants to yell at him. “Don’t act as if you didn’t see that coming. You don’t need to become further intoxicated, do you?” 

Tony had his arms folded across his chest now, any feeling of embarrassment making way for his stubborn inebriated anger. “Fine, whatever. I’m going downstairs anyway.” he stormed past Loki, leaving the god to stand alone in his wake on the roof. Fuck dealing with that. He’s been awake for what feels like a lifetime and it’s so much easier to get so out of it he passes out instantly than deal with the constant nightmares that plague him. Plus, he hasn’t been  _ drunk  _ drunk in a few nights now. As he’s heading down the stairs, he can hear Loki calling his name. Is it a terrible idea to go and pour himself another drink, just to piss the god off? He forces himself to walk down the stairs faster, a dangerous choice to make in his unbalanced state. 

When he makes it down in one piece, he beelines to the bar. He’s almost there when he sees that Loki’s behind it already, leaning against the countertop. There’s no smug look on his face this time. He’s unreadable. “Predictable, Tony. I’m not here to judge you, I’m trying to help you learn when enough is enough. You smell of alcohol, you look like a mess. The sun is coming up and you’re already the drunkest person in this tower.” 

“Am I not allowed to be drunk? I’m fine. I’ve been worse.” He’s still angry, maybe irrationally, maybe he is trying to stop him from going too far. Going too far is his idea of fun, though. Waking up with regret and nausea is normal for him, it’s a routine to him when it’s tough and for the last few months it’s  _ always  _ tough. “I can’t-I can’t go to sleep without it.” he says quietly, anger giving way to shame as he looks down, away from the god’s stare. “Are you happy now? Tony Stark gets drunk to fight off  _ nightmares.  _ It’s such a fucking joke, Loki. I can’t sleep for eight hours straight. Ever. I usually wake up a couple of times. Actually, several or more times, usually. The drunker I am, the better I sleep. Hence the states I drink myself into.”

There was silence between the two, the drunken man feeling unsteady and ready to lay down. He felt ready to cry, alone in his bed. Tony wasn’t sure if he expected a response from Loki, now standing at the bar with his eyes fixed on the creator. His mouth was slightly open, like he was almost ready to say something. It took him until Tony turned towards his bedroom to say anything. “I can help with that.” was all he said before he walked past the confused superhero, towards his master bedroom. 

When Loki stopped at the door, he turned to look at Tony. “Are you coming, then?” 


	6. Part Six

“I can’t offer you much, Tony, yet this is something I can do for you. If you will let me.” Loki’s talking to him and Tony can only offer a nod in return, anxiety racing through him even if it’s somewhat unnecessarily. He trusts Loki, as wild as that may be to other people in this tower if they knew. It’s being vulnerable that makes him uneasy; the thought that this moment could be used against him at some point. “A peaceful night's sleep. You’ll wake up rested, no hangover. That’ll be a nice change for you. Your body needs time to heal or you’ll destroy it.” Loki was trying not to scold Tony, that was clear, yet the judgement of his choices were very clear to Tony through Loki’s tone. 

Tony knows that the god’s right - he needs to slow down at times. He needs to learn the balance of self-control, although his track record with that has been pretty terrible since he was born, basically. Unsure what to say, he nods, his body relaxing at the idea of a night uninterrupted. Everyone was starting to wake up and yet he was finally letting his mind come to rest because of Earth’s most dangerous villain, as he was and still is called. It didn’t take long for him to become fully comfortable in his drunken state. Maybe that was Loki’s doing already, who knew how far his range went with his magic. So far it seems to be more extensive and complex than Tony though, he’s unable to fully grasp it all yet even though it is so similar to science. It’s simply so advanced and it’s the  _ stuff of movies and tv-shows  _ although that seems irrelevant now that he knows aliens and monsters exist too. 

Sometimes he wonders if Loki can read minds, if he can feel the shift in Tony’s thinking or mood. It’s the small looks he sends when Tony feels himself unravelling. Or when he’s drunk and stumbling to his room, mind wandering from nothingness to the fact that he’s always sleeping alone now and haunted by nightmares. He probablys wears it all on his face for Loki to read. It’s all pushed to the back of his mind when the god places a hand on both sides of his head and Tony feels himself shutting his eyes. It feels like he’s sinking down into his mattress and he isn’t worried about anything except for how he feels at this exact moment. Tony doesn’t remember much after that. 

-

  
  


Waking up wasn’t painful. He felt like himself when he woke up, eyes opening to darkness in his room. He hadn’t been jolted awake by a nightmare, or woken up by the need to throw up. Instead he had come simply, painlessly and he felt normal - something he hasn’t been able to say for the longest time. There was no one else in his room, he half expected Loki to be waiting for him to wake, so he took his time waking up. Tony was almost tempted to roll over and try to go back to sleep, enjoy this feeling of peacefulness before it disappears and he’s weighed down by all the bullshit in his life. Jarvis lit the room with a very dim light, enough so he could see around the room and he sighed deeply and decided on a long shower to start his.. Morning? Night? He honestly didn’t know what time it was. There was no grogginess or exhaustion like he usually felt after a big sleep. 

It wasn’t until he’s in the shower that he realises how good he really feels. Right now, with the hot water running down his back, he felt weightless, almost. Fully rested. He wondered how long the feeling would last. While it was here, he was going to enjoy it, so he made sure he did. He spent too long in the overly large shower, water rushing off him while he allowed himself to enjoy not thinking about anything or anyone in particular, just being in the moment. There was no need for a drink or to cut into himself for relief, there was nothing like that. It made him think about how messed up his life, how his shit sleeping probably makes everything so much worse in those moments as well. Eventually he got out, dried himself off and took his time picking out something to wear. Jeans that fit nicely and a band shirt. He wants to look a little more presentable, maybe as a thank you to Loki, for allowing him one morning of peace.

The first cup of coffee tastes better than usual seeing as he isn’t hungover and he waits for the god to show up. He’ll be sober, clean and refreshed. They should do something together, go out somewhere. He learned after his shower that it had been almost a full day since he’d gone to sleep. They’ve spent enough time holed up together in his lab and there were only a few more hours until the city was alive again. Even if they drove somewhere together in a fancy car, Loki could drive as well, they’d have fun. They could both let their hair down and grab something to eat. It definitely isn’t a date, not at all. Unless Loki wanted it to be. Tony wouldn’t say no, of course not, but he would only classify it as a date if it was what Loki wanted it to be as well. Maybe it was too crazy, too stupid to go out in public with the man everyone still hates, yet has forgotten slightly. The fact that aliens existed and had attacked Earth was more talked about than the once villain. Repairing the city had helped a lot with that. 

Eventually, when Loki did walk into the lab where Tony was sketching while nursing his second cup of coffee. He looked grumpier than Tony had seen in a while and he looked exhausted. “Hey, Loki. I was thinking we should go get some air together today. Maybe stop for some food somewhere, get out of the tower for a change,” Tony said it casually, while he was still doodling to make it seem casual and light. 

Loki turned his back on Tony while he thought of the answer, his slender frame pacing the length of the lab. “I don’t think I have it in me, Tony. I am beyond tired. Is this how you feel all the time? No wonder you drink,  _ lords help me,” _ he sounded irritated, moody. It wasn’t a side of Loki that Tony was used to, although he had seen him in similar states after repairing the city. “I can basically hear you trying to figure it out. Yes, my magic drains me. It drains me so much more now there’s restrictions on it.” It sounded like his teeth were clenched as he spoke, throwing himself down on the couch in one corner of the lap while he breathed heavily. “I am not in a good mood. I wanted to make sure you woke up and stayed clear headed, however, or I’d feel like this for nothing.”

Tony could feel guilt start to eat away at him, in the very back of his head, yet he pushed it down before Loki could smell it on him. “I feel good, really good, thank you. That’s why I wanted to take you out. Look, I’m even wearing jeans that fit me. Not sweatpants. If you want to rest I’ll keep working.” He tried to sound genuine, he really did want Loki to rest and feel better, although he also wanted him to go so he could be alone. It was making him feel terrible seeing Loki look exactly how he felt most mornings. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me if you don't feel well.”

Loki stared at him, eyes fixed onto his face as if he’s trying to see if he can find a reason to stay. He nods, after apparently finding nothing. “I need another day to recover, that’s all. Have you forgotten that I’m never allowed to leave this place without Thor? I’m sure he would love to join us on our outing.” The sarcastic mention of his brother's name had reality crashing back down around Tony. There could never be any sort of trips out or dates, if they ever got there, with the sorcerer. It was like someone had splashed cold water over him and he felt his mouth open slightly, trying to process everything all at once. 

“I- I totally forgot. How stupid of me. Sorry, Loki. Go and rest and I’ll be here.” Despite the good start to his morning, Tony can feel it all unravelling around him. He should’ve kept his mouth shut about going out when he saw how Loki was.

“Tony, please, don’t worry. I am fine. I’ll be back tomorrow or even late tonight. Sleep is much needed after using my magic. We’ll talk about it later.” Loki was talking casually now, trying to keep the conversation light as he probably picked up on Tony’s mood. “Don’t be intoxicated when I see you next.” It was said in jest, although there was a warning underneath it too. There was no desire to get drunk, yet. He’d be lying if he said seeing Loki look so worn down didn’t make him want to slice into this skin instantly. Loki looked too much like himself in the mornings, exhausted, sad, tense. It was there and as clear on day on the god’s face and Tony couldn’t help the guilt he felt at making the much older man go through that for  _ him  _ of all people. He watched Loki leaving the lab, smiling at him the best that the mechanic could manage when he turned around to wave before disappearing up the steps. 

  
Work would hopefully keep him distracted while Loki rests. If he throws himself into building something, welding pieces of metal together, he’d be here for a few hours and he wouldn’t drink. He isn’t sure how long it will last, how long he can push back the twisting feeling in his stomach at what’s just happened. He’s drained Loki and he’s realised what little chance they have to build a relationship. It’s stupid, Tony knows, yet he’s sat on it and thought about how Loki is  _ so  _ right for him. In so many ways they’re similar, they’re the same in their thinking. They balance each other out to certain degrees and they’re learning how to handle each other, having spent so much time together in this very lab. Tony’s thoughts are starting to be Loki-orientated in every room in the damn penthouse. There’s memories, some fond, some ugly, attached to everything now. It’s trying to figure out how to get the god to admit if he has any feelings as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope if there's anyone still reading that you like it.


	7. Part Seven

Working had kept him occupied until late into the night when he thought there might be a chance he would see Loki again. His thoughts were spiralling and had been for hours, but he had pushed them and the uneasy anxiety in his stomach to the back of his mind and focused on what was in front of him. He had tried to only think no more than two steps ahead, what he had to do next for what he was working on so he couldn’t get too lost inside of his mind. It was hard and he wanted to stop and pour a drink but he couldn’t bring himself to do that after Loki had ruined himself, essentially, for him. The god had looked  _ wrecked _ _ ,  _ the sort of exhaustion that usually hung over Tony seemed to be hanging over him when he had walked into the lab. It hurt to see, was almost shocking to see what he most likely looked like every day from an outside perspective. 

It’s those images of Loki that kept him completely sober for now. It didn’t stop him from sitting at the bar, a lit cigarette in his hand once he put the tools down. Maybe he’ll go back down there and work until he can’t take it but he needs a break. Stress relief, since he’s determined not to reach for the very alluring bottles of golden brown liquid across from him. Having a fully rested night was something he won’t experience for a while,  _ thanks insomnia,  _ but he was touched that Loki would do that for him to let his body recover in peace for a little while. He didn’t know how to feel right now, though. There’s a way out of this, sitting across from him. There are glasses next to them. Ice ready for him. It’s easy to hide alcoholism when you’re as rich as him, everyone laughs it off or stays silent about it with money. The people who try and try to get him to stop resign to it after a while,  _ tsk  _ disapprovingly at him when he pours himself a glass. He feels no shame when he does, though. Not until he’s drinking alone in his lab and he sees himself, _ really _ sees how he looks, does he feel shame when he pours himself a drink. When there are no excuses, no reasoning behind it besides simply  _ needing  _ a drink and no one to even try to stop him around. 

He brings the cigarette to his lips for a deep inhale, hoping the nicotine will take the edge off or make him feel so dizzy and sick he won’t want to drink. It feels like he’s stuck in a vicious cycle. Without the alcohol, he falls back into self-harm as a coping mechanism (that word always makes him feel  _ dirty  _ for some reason) and without the self-harm, he falls further into the heavy drinking. It had been a while since the last time he hurt himself now though. There are always thoughts of it in the back of his head but instead of indulging them, he’d drink to drown it all out and avoid being left alone with his thoughts. Now there’s no drinking either. Loki has been taking up so much of his time too, there’s not nearly enough time to participate in more self-destruction without raising suspicion. Right now he’s all alone though. He’s alone, frustratingly unable to seriously consider the man he’s crushing on for a relationship. He can’t even take him out on a  _ date _ . The more he thinks about it, the more Tony feels like an idiot. Why isn’t there a part of his life that is easy? It’s just all messy and complicated. Most of that was his fault. If only he had tried to be less of a sex fiend and a better partner instead. 

There’s no peace in his mind anymore. The fact that Loki had to put him to sleep just so he could feel rested should be a sign as to how bad this has all gotten. Is he even in a position to start to date? Tony wishes he could look at himself from an outside perspective, lighting up another cigarette while the rest of the tower rests. It’s late. He’s stuck in his head, in the past and the future. In what could be, but shouldn’t be. He’d be bad for Loki in the long run, wouldn’t he? His demons would have to pull Loki down with him. It seems to happen to everyone who gets too close to him. Now doesn’t seem like the time to get them both tangled up in each other's problems. Maybe it was time to face what was to come first and deal with the emotions later if they survived it. He coughed on the smoke, his throat feeling like it wanted to close due to the anxiety of  _ what was to come.  _ Something unknown to him, yet something that terrifies the god. Whoever is behind that army he saw in space was someone to be seriously feared if they made a literal god, straight from the mythology books, scared. 

The thought of that alone sent a shiver down his spine. He had a feeling deep in his gut they were all fucked and here he was, wallowing in his seemingly endless pity party. Although when he thinks about how bad he felt the day after his last drinking binge, he can’t bring himself to pour out a shot of anything that’s behind his bar right now. It makes him sigh loudly, annoyed at himself and the world around him. He wished everything was different. He hoped that there’s an alternate reality where he’s truly happy and happily in love with Pepper or with Loki. In that world, that life, there’s no sense of impending doom. No family that tried to kill him or his father that refused to show any amount of love. He wouldn’t even be Iron Man. It’s a cruel dream-world to lose himself in yet he still hopes that version of him is alive somewhere, in a world that will forever be unattainable. It can only exist in his mind. 

Maybe whatever he feels between himself and Loki could only exist in his mind as well. There’s more disappointment coursing through him at the thought of denying his feelings for the god than he thought there would be. It feels as though it would be a real shame to give up wanting to explore what’s growing between them. However, everything is constantly changing around them.  _ He’s  _ changing. How could he expect Loki to want to commit to such a mess of a person? Living with him is an endless emotional rollercoaster can Loki be dragged through that any more than he already has? Tony still wants to hear him say that there’s more than just friendship brewing between them but once those words are spoken out loud... There’d be no going back. Tony wouldn’t accept walking away once he knew this wasn’t all in his own head. He’s imagined them laughing together. Happy in their own little bubble. If he knew there’s a chance he could live out the many fantasies that he conjured up he wouldn’t be able to walk away from it. 

There were no thoughts in his next actions as he went to stub out his smoke but instead of the glass ashtray, held the still-burning cigarette above his other hand. It took him a second to realise what he was about to do and he was stuck there, unsure to push down or pull away. Painful and unpleasant, yes, but it would take his mind off of his internal pain. Some small part inside of him didn’t want him to do it though. His hand felt frozen in place, his chance at self-punishment was fading and the tears filling in his eyes were making the scene in front of him blurry and in a moment of weakness and a deep self-loathing he pushed down. For the brief second, it was against his skin it burned, it hurt he swore loudly and pushed himself away from the bar, the now unlit and slightly squashed cigarette forgotten on the bar, next to the ashtray. He nursed his injured hand close to himself as he walked to the kitchen sink and ran it under cold tap water, hissing as the water made contact with the nasty looking circular burn. It was safe to say he felt like a fucking idiot already. Tony feels like there’s not enough time to come up with a good lie to cover his ass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! I feel a little bit rusty but I wanted to post this and not let it sit on my computer any longer. I hope everyone is staying safe and sane during these ridiculously weird times. Enjoy, if anyone is still reading this!


End file.
